


The One Where John Meets Sherlock

by shezzabatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, Friends pilot AU, John is like Rachel, M/M, One Shot, and Sherlock is like Gunther, but this time Gunther gets his Rachel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shezzabatch/pseuds/shezzabatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Sherlock and John would have met if it had been like the Friends pilot</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where John Meets Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely jominerva for naming the coffee shop! Several Friends references made in here, I had so much fun fusing 2 of my favorite shows :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't claim to be a writer but this had to brought to life. Non-beta'ed, not Brit-picked, hastily thrown together in a few hours of mad creativity.

John Watson was about to be in a lot of trouble.

“Has ANYONE seen John? Have you?” Mike Stamford turned to one of the ushers at the back of the church.

The usher shook his head. “I last saw him headed towards the back, said he forgot to give the best man the ring.”

Mike Stamford sighed. “I’m his best man, I have his bloody ring.” He looked around the church. All the guests had been seated ages ago and the ceremony had already been delayed thirty minutes. Where did John get off to?? Mike made his way to the men’s restroom and saw the window had been left open. “Oh bloody hell….”

He made his way back into the church and approached Mary waiting in the wings. Poor Mary, thinking today was going to be her big day, the first day of the rest of her life. Instead, her future husband had run off with cold feet. He had to break the news to her. “Mary….. I’m so sorry… John ran off.”

“He WHAT!?” she nearly shrieked. Her bridesmaids turned to her in curiosity.

“Yeah um… he must have snuck out of the men’s loos, the window was cracked open wide enough to suggest he escaped.”

Mary sighed. “I figured this would happen. He’s not been himself lately. Thank you, Mike, I’ll break the news to everyone. You go out and see if you can find him.”

Mike nodded. “Will do. I’ll call you later.” Mary gave him a quick hug then bustled past her bridesmaids who all followed her into the main part of the church to tell everyone the wedding was off. Mike turned around and made his way outside just as it started to rain. “Oh bugger,” he sighed and headed towards the car park.

 

———

 

John was soaked to the bone. He didn’t care, he just wanted to get as far away from that church as possible. He realized that morning he was not, definitely NOT ready to get married, and certainly not to Mary Morstan. Sure she was a sweet girl, pretty face, nice family. But there he was waiting for all the guests to arrive, looking over some of the wedding gifts already set on the table when he spotted a gravy boat, a lovely sterling silver gravy boat that Mary must have put on the registry. He didn’t really want it, but it was quite a nice piece for entertaining. And that’s when he realized, he liked that gravy boat just a bit more than Mary Morstan. He had run off to the loos and snuck out the window. Just like that, he was free. No more obligation. Sure he felt bad all that money had been spent was now going to waste, but he was free from a woman he didn’t truly love, and that felt infinitely better.

On his long jog to get away from the church, it started to rain. Once there was a slosh-squish in his shoes and the ache in his leg worsened he decided it was time to take refuge inside somewhere. He looked around hoping to find a shop open at 10am on a Sunday but the options were slim. That’s when a car pulled up next to him.

“JOHN.” He spun around and saw Mike Stamford sounding livid. “What did you do??” He looked utterly perplexed.

“I um… I wasn’t ready. I can’t marry her.”

Mike sighed for what he felt like the hundredth time in just the last hour. “Get in the car. I know a place that serves a great cup of coffee. You can dry off and we’ll talk this over.”

John looked down at his feet and nodded. “Yeah, alright.” He slosh-squish-limped his way around to the passenger’s side door and got in.

“If that seat doesn’t dry out, you’re paying for it, mate.”

“Yeah, yeah I don’t care… let’s just get that coffee, can we?”

Mike nodded, pulled away from the curb and headed about another mile down the road.

 

———

 

The little bell above the door rung as Mike and John walked into the cozy coffee shop. There was a large overstuffed couch, a couple squishy arm chairs around a coffee table and about a dozen tall cafe tables and matching chairs all around the shop.

John looked around, sensing familiarity. “Bit different from my day, I remember this place being a pub! When did it turn into a coffee house?”

“A few years ago. They weren’t getting the business they used to, sold it to another proprietor who turned it into this place. I don’t miss the pub that much, like I said this place serves a good cup of coffee. Here, let me introduce you to the owner. Sherlock, mate, I’d like you to meet someone!”

The man behind the counter turned around and John held back a small gasp in his throat. He was tall, lean, had the sharpest cheekbones he may have ever seen, a mop of curly black hair on his head and the strangest colored eyes he could recall, an odd mix of green, grey and blue. He was dressed in a black button down shirt and black trousers, an apron tied around his waist. “Ah, Mike, may I borrow your phone?”

Mike padded down his pockets to find he didn’t have it. “Sorry, must have left it at the church. I was in a hurry.” He shot a look at John who looked a bit guilty at that statement. John then pulled his phone out of his tuxedo pocket and held it out to Sherlock. “Here, use mine.” Their fingers brushed briefly in transferring the device and John tried not to gasp again at the warm touch of this gorgeous man he had just met.

Sherlock typed quickly away on John’s phone not looking back up at him. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“…What??”

“I said, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Afghanistan… how did you—?”

Sherlock handed John's phone back to him. “Condolences on your wedding too. Or lack thereof.”

“Um.. thanks, I guess?” John briefly looked at his phone to see the man had sent out a text to someone demanding replacement supplies for the shop before replacing it in his pocket.

Mike took this brief point of confusion to interrupt. “Sherlock, this is my mate, John Watson; John this is Sherlock Holmes, owner of 221Bean.”

John held out his hand. “Pleasure,” he nodded as Sherlock took his hand. John felt a jolt of something go up his arm that rooted him to the spot and he looked right into Sherlock’s eyes and found his green-grey-blue ones staring right back at him, mouth hanging open a little.

Sherlock shook his head and released John’s hand. “Right, couple lattes on the house? You look like you could use it.” He turned around and got to making them. John and Mike turned from the counter and walked over to the large couch and sat down.

John shot Mike a confused look to which Mike responded, “Yeah, he’s always like that,” and stifled a laugh. 

A few minutes later Sherlock walked over with three large mugs and a towel, setting the towel on the arm of the couch next to John and two of the cups on the table, then sat down in one of the armchairs nearby with his own coffee. John smiled at him, picked up the towel and started using it to soak up some of the more waterlogged spots on his clothes. “So, Sherlock—“ John started, but at that moment his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, it was Mary. “Oh, damn… just a second,” he got up from the couch and walked to the other side of the shop. Sherlock sipped his coffee in silence, Mike flipped through the morning newspaper. A few moments later John returned huffing a sigh and flopping back down on the couch. “Wedding’s off for good. Mike, thanks mate, for finding me. Mary is well upset. She has your phone so you’ll have to see her to get it back.”

“Oh, right yeah thanks, nearly forgot,” he checked his watch. “I should go get it, I don’t think I’ll miss any important calls today but..”

“No it’s fine, go on,” John offered. “I’ll be alright.” He smiled a knowing smile and cleared his throat.

“Right I’ll be off then. I’ll see you later. Bye, Sherlock,” Sherlock gave a curt nod in his direction and the little bell over the door jingled as Mike left.

John sighed another huge sigh and tossed his phone on the coffee table, picking up his mug and taking a deep drink from it. When he set it down again he noticed Sherlock still peering at him over his mug. “So, how did you know that stuff about me?”

Sherlock lowered his mug to reveal a small smirk on his lips. “I observed.”

“Observed?”

“Yes, as you walked in you recognized the place but it had been a while since you were last here, and it wasn’t a coffee shop then, it was a pub. The pub used to be one of the regular places for those at St. Bart’s to grab a pint after classes or shifts, but the way you held yourself showed former military training, so, army doctor. Then there’s your limp, psychosomatic, I’m afraid, just as your therapist says; but seeing as it’s your wedding day you didn’t want your cane showing up in all your photographs so you left it at home. Should have just brought it with you, I assume on a rainy day even a psychosomatic limp may flare up worse than on a sunny one. You were invalided out of the army though, sent home after being shot in your left shoulder. Where are the only places an army doctor could get shot currently? Afghanistan or Iraq. Then there’s the wedding itself…not exactly cold feet or you wouldn’t have stayed here, you would have gone with Stamford back to the church and got married, so you’re not in love with the woman you left. No, you never really loved her. Cared for her, yes, but loved, no. You were going to marry her thinking it would be a safe move just to live out your life with a woman coming from a bit more money than yourself. It’s hard living alone on an army pension in London these days.”

John stared at Sherlock, his coffee mug halfway to his mouth which hung open in astonishment. “That was…. _brilliant_!”

“Really? That’s not what they normally say.”

“What do they normally say?”

“Piss off,” Sherlock laughed and John joined in. “I’ve been looking for a flatmate. I’ve got a place picked out, together we should be able to afford it.”

“We’ve only just met and you want to look at a flat together?”

“I’ve got all the information I need to be going on with… that’s enough, don’t you think?”

“But I know nothing about you!”

“You know I own this coffee shop, you know I make an excellent latte or you wouldn’t have downed most of it already. My shop is a stable business even if it seems quiet at this very moment, you are clearly attracted to me and I’m most definitely attracted to you.”

John blushed at the last statement. “That’s amazing. Um… alright, sure. I’ll look at the flat with you. Where is it?”

Sherlock nodded up and looked back to John. “Just upstairs, Mrs. Hudson owns the whole building and has majority of the financial stakes in the shop, my name is on the lease and profits pay the rent, but only just. A flatmate would be quite welcoming.” Sherlock gave John a smile just then, one he knew John wouldn’t be able to resist. “Would you like to see it now? Sundays are pretty slow here, closing up for a short time won’t make a difference.”

John almost spit out the remaining sips of latte he had taken when he heard Sherlock’s suggestion. It started off being his wedding day getting married to a woman, and now here he was being propositioned by a man and about to willingly accept it! John swallowed and coughed a couple times to clear his throat. Yes, he was certainly attracted to Sherlock even though he had just met him. Was he mad for wanting to go upstairs and play out the images he just saw flash across his mind? He looked into Sherlock’s eyes and saw an intensity not there a moment ago. His heart sped up, his breathing labored and he whispered but Sherlock heard him, “Yes,” he sat down his mug on the table before him, stood up and brushed off the wrinkles in his tux. Sherlock followed suit, grabbing the keys and leading the way out of the shop, locking up behind him. Sherlock led him a couple steps over to the flat building’s main door and unlocked it, pushing it open and letting John in first. He walked into a small vestibule with Sherlock right behind, shutting the door.

“This way,” Sherlock brushed by him and swept up the stairs, another jolt of electricity ran through John as it happened. He followed him quickly and soon as they were past the threshold of 221B, Sherlock slammed John into the closed door and kissed him. It was a little hard, a little rough, grasping for each other, shirt tails got pulled up out trousers, John’s tux jacket flew off somewhere deeper into the flat and Sherlock’s apron landed on top of the lamp next to the door. Hands slid up under shirts, buttons flew open and soon a belt buckle was coming undone and trousers and pants got pushed to the floor together. John groaned perhaps a bit too loudly as Sherlock took all of him into his mouth, his hands fell into Sherlock’s soft curls as he melted from Sherlock’s talented tongue.

“Oh god, Sherlock, I’m not going to last,” John panted, his head leaned back against the door. Sherlock pulled off and stood up, swept John into a kiss, softer this time. John pulled Sherlock in closer with one hand, opened his mouth to him and let him explore while the other worked on Sherlock’s belt and trousers. Sherlock pulled back momentarily to push them down. “I’ve got lube, in my trouser pocket… thought I might need it between the church and reception venue. Guess that didn’t work out,” John giggled as Sherlock fished through the pockets and found it.

“His and hers lubes, John? Did it really work?” Sherlock snickered.

“I don’t know, I only got them the other day. Thought we would try them out,” John laughed with him. Sherlock tossed one of the bottles aside and opened the other. He grabbed them together, slicked them both up and they groaned in unison. Sherlock rested his forehead on John’s shoulder and pumped them together, faster and faster. John grabbed Sherlock’s face back up and kissed him gently then moved to his jaw and neck. His arms circled around Sherlock’s waist and slid down to his arse, pushing them closer together as they bucked against each other harder. John was still the first to come with Sherlock following a moment later. They breathed in each other’s scents for a moment, smelling of coffee, perspiration and sex, before looking back up at each other’s faces. Sherlock pulled John in for another kiss, sweet and slow. John had never felt anything like this in all the time he had been with Mary. This, with Sherlock, felt so right. Damn if he just met the man not even an hour ago.

“So when are you moving in?” Sherlock’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“If I say tonight do I get a spectacular cup of coffee in the morning?” John grinned.

“Would a cup of coffee and a lie in suffice?”

“Mmm so I would get my honeymoon after all,” John leaned in and kissed Sherlock one more time. Pants and trousers came back up, shirts got rebuttoned. Tux jacket and apron got put back on. Sherlock led them both back down the stairs, out onto the street and reopened 221Bean. John started to make his way down the street. If he was going to move in with Sherlock, he had a few things to pack up first.

“John!” Sherlock called from the door the shop and John turned around to look at him. “Don’t bother bringing your cane, it seems you won’t need it.” Sherlock grinned and ducked back through the doors. John laughed and continued to make his way down the pavement noticing the pain in his leg and the limp was now gone. Apparently he was meant to be with the love of his life today, it just happened to be a different one than he expected, and it was all fine.


End file.
